


well this is embarrassing

by beenomorph



Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, anyways so this is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenomorph/pseuds/beenomorph
Summary: ‘All hands to the bridge,’ ISIC thinks to himself, bitterly, ‘ISIC is having an ugly cry.’





	

When he found him there, alone on one of the observation decks, gripping the guard rail to-tightly to steel himself against the shaking of his frame,Oscar Mike’s brows furrowed together in-- what was it? Worry? Pity? ISIC felt so acutely aware of his shifts of expression whenever his helmet was off. 

“Dude,” he said, placing one hand on one of ISIC’s shaking ornate shoulders, “Are you… Okay?”

ISIC jolted back, yanking his arm away from Oscar’s as if the other’s hand suddenly had the power to met through his chassis.

“Me?” ISIC chuckles, but his voice is too frantic, too frayed around the edges, “I’m doing great! Better than--” and then he makes the _noise_. 

It’s not so much a noise as it is the lack thereof, the sputtering silence of his vocal processors entirely glitching out and fading into incoherence. The worry on Oscar Mike’s face is full-blown by now, and ISIC decides that he wants it _gone_ , that he wants to go back to whatever it was they were doing before this conversation got so personal.

“I’m f-i--n--” his voice breaks again. He laughs, though distressed and glitch addled, “Hol-- uck!” 

His frame is still shaking, but worse now-- hard enough for his plating to rattle. His avatar was almost entirely out of his control, less a terrifying skull and more a pixelated blue blob; he couldn’t even control his _damn voice_ \--

The worst part, he thinks, worse than the fact that he’s apparently lost all control over his body and has no idea what’s happening, is that Oscar Mike is there to witness the whole damn thing.

“You don’t _sound_ super okay,” Oscar ventures, scooting forwards once more to regain the territory lost when ISIC jerked backwards.

“I don’t thi--th---think I am,” ISIC admits, perhaps the only honest thing he’s said in a long time. Oscar’s brows raise in surprise, an improvement from his earlier distress.

“Dude--”

“I’m terrified!” ISIC blurts loudly, and Oscar Mike is thoroughly stumped.

“Of what?” he asks tactfully, the scar over his left eye crinkling as his face scrunched up in confusion. 

“B----ing al-- _ive_!” he looks up, through the observation window, golden fingers catching the ight from Solus as his fingers clenched and unclenched. “We saved Solus! Th--ts cool, or whatever, but now we have to-- _I have to_ \--exp--exp-p-perience more of this _mockery of exis---ence_ and,” he tried to stop, tried to gather his frantic thoughts, but they were already lost. His vents released a puff of steam, trying to combat the excess heat his frame was producing suddenly. ISIC tried to find the mind to be embarrassed, but only found more words, “Pain, l-l-loneliness, dr-----ead. How do you organi--cs live with it all? All the-the _time_?” 

He tried laughing again. It came out as an uncomfortably long burst of static. 

“I nev-ver should have be---e--en a-a-anything more than a subroutine.” he continued his spiel, though much quieter than before, “Igno---rance is bliss, isn’t it?”

Oscar Mike didn’t respond with words, which ISIC was secretly very thankful for, instead tentatively attempting to touch ISIC’s shoulder once more. ISIC’s entire body slumped at the contact this time and, thoroughly defeated, he folded in his ankle-joints and sunk to the floor. Oscar knelt beside him, taking the movement as incentive to awkwardly wrap his arm around the Magnus’ great frame, resting his head against the glass part of ISIC’s chassis.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, alongside another unattractive hiss of steam from his vents, “You-y-y-you _shouldn’t_ be seeing m-like this.” 

“It’s okay, man,” Oscar Mike said, voice uncharacteristically quiet, like he was trying to sound gentle but couldn’t quite muster it. “Sometimes, y’know, you just gotta let it all out.” one of his hands reached up to scrub at his good eyes, and he released a shaky breath.

“Are you c-c- _crying_?” ISIC says, incredulous.

“I’m a sympathetic cryer!” Oscar shoots back, voice defensive.

“I’m not crying.”

“Dude. You’re totally crying.” Oscar Mike chuckles, a gentle sound.

‘ _All hands to the bridge,_ ’ ISIC thinks to himself, bitterly, _‘ISIC is having an ugly cry_.’

“Fuck you!” ISIC says cheerily, voice approaching something resembling normal. Oscar grins, but doesn't pull away. ISIC isn’t sure what possesses him to wrap his arm around the soldier’s waist and pull him just a bit closer. He isn’t sure what possesses him to stay there, now in silence, looking out at the inky void surrounding Solus long after his frame stopped shaking, long after his avatar returned to its usual ghastly form. He isn’t sure what possesses Oscar Mike to press a little kiss to the glass by his skull before leaning into the embrace further, eyes sliding shut.

He’s pretty sure, however, that he’s a bit less terrified at the prospect of continued existence. At least, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to formally apologize for this garbage


End file.
